I'll Be Your Support
by RenegadeReaper
Summary: Alfred is a young, bright eyed American boy of sixteen. One day, he meets a stern, collected British man. They fall in love, but are separated by the Revolutionary war. What will become of them?
1. Chapter 1

Alfred Jones was sitting in a field a fair distance away from his farm, his back leaning up against a tree. A blue lake shimmered not too far away from him. The sun shone down on his tan and muscular frame, his white as snow shirt slightly buttoned and open and suspenders hanging loosely from his hips. The boy's sky blue eyes were closed in the heat of the mid-summer day. Tall grass swayed in the dusty breeze, stirring his honey colored locks. Alfred shifted slightly in the sunlight, his body drinking it in.

Nearby, a British soldier was walking along the sandy beach of the lake. The sleeve of his shirt was torn up, blood seeping through the opening. He was obviously lost. The Brit had hair the color of sun ripened wheat. Eyes the color of emeralds complimented it fantastically. He paused at a rocky outcrop of rocks by the lake, setting down his weapon and shrugging off his shirt and coat. The man waded into the cool water, delighted by the feel of it against the hot pressure of the summer day. His attention was focused on his injured arm. The Brit cupped his hand, scooping water into it and rubbing it into the wound. His green eyes were focused on the task at hand. "Damn American ambush plan." He mumbled under his breath, cursing frequently under his breath.

Meanwhile, Arthur was oblivious to the fact that an enemy of his side of the war was no more than ten meters away from him. His eyelashes cast small shadows over his sunburned cheekbones, sweat glistening on his forehead. The American's blue eyes snapped open when he heard a splash of water coming from the lake. Alfred's gaze wandered to the lake, eyes resting on the Brit's figure. He stood up, shading his eyes from the sun.

"Ya lost?" He called, loping over to the lakeside.

The stranger jumped, turning, eyes on the defensive. He relaxed slightly at the sight of the unarmed boy. "Aye. But keep it quiet. Wouldn't want anybody knowin'." He winked, giving Alfred an easy smile. The man had an English accent. His muscular body had the American's full attention. Al blushed slightly, rubbing the back of his sweat plastered neck with a hand.

"I'm Alfred Jones. An' you are?"

The stranger cast a careless glance over the boy. "Arthur Kirkland." He ducked his head under the water, resurfacing soon after. Arthur's breath hissed out from clenched teeth. "Water's bloody cold…" He griped.

"Well, it's hot out here, I reckon." Alfred answered wryly, stretching his toned arms over his head. The Brit smiled wistfully, sliding out of the water and pulling his shirt over his head. "No kidding, eh? Hotter 'n Hell in July, I'd say."

Alfred's lingering blush returned, causing him to avert his bright gaze. "'Tis that way round these parts."

"Mm, I wouldn't know much about that." Arthur muttered, nodding slightly and running a hand through his damp hair.

"You new 'ere?" The taller boy inquired, wiping the sweat off his brow.

"You could say that." Arthur smiled faintly, looking down at his still-bloody arm. "Persistent little bugger, aren't ya?" He wiped the blood away, but more surfaced after he had done so. Alfred's eyes widened when he saw the blood. "You're bleeding!" He exclaimed.

"No kidding…" The Brit answered. Wordlessly, the boy crossed over to his newfound friend. He tore a strip off of his white shirt and used it to bind Arthur's shallow wound.

"Careful you don't take my arm off, mate." Arthur commented dryly, wincing as the American tightened the cloth over his bicep.

Eyes twinkling, Alfred chuckled and looked back down at the shorter man. "I'll try not to, Arthur."

"Alright, then, Alfred." He answered. Alfred liked the way his name sounded with Arthur's accent. He adjusted his glasses, giving the other boy a charming smile. The guarded expression slipped from Arthur's face. He gave the boy a genuine smile, eyes softening. "What's a fine lad like yourself doing out here on a day like this, eh?"

"Gettin' away from the farmwork." He smiled sheepishly, scratching his head. Arthur chuckled, nodding. "Ah, I see."

"Well it get's 't be a pain in the arse when you want to dream the day away instead." Alfie gazed at the lake, his eye color matching that of the lake. It was almost enchanting.

"I know the feeling," Arthur admitted, smiling at the other male. Alfred looked back up, returning his smile. "You're British, aye?"

Arthur nodded, eyes amused. "Aye, that I am. What was it, the accent that tipped you off~?"

Alfred nodded, chuckling and tilting his head sideways. "What's a Brit doin' round here?"

The Brit in question let out an exasperated sigh, looking up at the sky. "Bein lost." He responded gruffly. Alfred tsked, smiling and shaking his head. "Need any help findin' yer way back?"

The shorter man shook his head. "I rather like being lost on a day like this. No point in going back now…" Alfred nodded in agreement. "True enough."

Arthur grinned. "How old are ye, anyways?"

The American puffed out his chest proudly, smiling. "Sixteen. Only a few years short of being a man. And you?"

The Brit smirked. "Eighteen. I beat you by two years." He proclaimed smugly.

"No fair…" The blue eyed boy huffed.

"It is so." Arthur bumped his shoulder playfully. Alfred rolled his eyes and began to unbutton his shirt, walking towards the lake. "It's hotter 'n hell out here. I'm going for a swim." The boy cast aside his white shirt, whistling softly. Arthur grinned, following him. "I think I'll join you there…"

Alfie grinned, shading his eyes from the sun and discarding his glasses as well. "Sure thing." He hopped slightly, running into the lake with a whoop. The Brit laughed, watching him. Alfred reminded him of himself at that age. The American slid himself into the water, sighing with satisfaction. He tilted his head back, water droplets littering his darkly tanned torso. Arthur climbed onto a rock, lowering his feet into the water and kicking his feet lightly. He liked the feeling of the water lapping at his knees. His green eyes were downcast and unfocused.

Al ducked under the water, coming back up, shivering with pleasure. He raked his hand through his sun bleached hair. His blue eyes settled on Arthur, who was sitting with his head tilted back towards the heavens. His skin was slightly freckled, slightly sunburnt. A slow, mischievous grin slid into place on Alfred's face. He scooped water up at the relaxing man. Arthur's vivid green eyes snapped open, shock accenting them mildly. He recoiled from the cold water, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Hey! That's cold!" He snapped, irate. Alfred just snickered. The Brit rolled his entrancing eyes and slid his feet back into the water. Arthur wasn't done with his share of fun, though. The American boy grabbed the other's legs up under the knees and pulling him into the frigid water. Arthur yelped, eyes widening as he was dragged in. He rose to the surface of the water, spitting water at Alfie. Alfred's electric blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

Arthur shrugged his soaking shirt off, tossing it onto the rock he had currently inhabited. He turned to the American, pushing him lightly and brushing his now wet hair out of his eyes. "Cheater…"

Arthur grinned, eyes trailing over the Brit's muscular body before ducking his head under the water to ovoid an onslaught of water from his companion. After Alfie had disappeared into the foamy depths of the lake, Arthur dragged himself back onto his previous perch. He patted it almost affectionately as Alfred came up for air. "This is my rock. No touching it."

"Yeah, yeah." The American rolled his eyes.

Arthur grinned triumphantly, crossing his toned arms over his dripping chest. Alfred's eyes flickered over to him, studying him. He bit his lip subconsciously. He hummed his approval. Arthur shivered as the wind picked up. He slid back into the water. "'S too cold up there…" He grumbled. The blue eyed boy shrugged, eyes sliding back down as he bobbed in the water.

The Brit splashed him halfheartedly, earning a grin and a return splash from his friend. Arthur ducked his head to avoid the water, holding arms halfway up. Alfred looked at his hair. It seemed so soft. His hands itched to touch it. The boy found himself running a hand through it. Arthur looked up curiously. After a moment, he decided that it felt good, and leaned into the taller boy's hand. His cheek rested in Alfred's wide, work-worn palm. His green eyes half closed as he made a small purring-like sound.

Alfie's eyes widened slightly, a blush dusting his cheeks. The green eyed boy's eyes closed all the way. The American's eyes went from his eyes to his lips, licking his own self-consciously. His blush burned deeper, lighting up his sunburnt cheeks. Just go for it, he thought to himself, closing his own eyes and leaning forward. Without a second thought, he connected their lips. Arthur's fluttered open. He blinked in surprise, melting into the kiss. Alfred cupped his cheek, running a thumb lightly over his cheekbone and deepening the kiss. Arthur brought his arms to rest on Alfie's shoulders, fingers tickling the nape of his neck. He tilted his chin up slightly to compensate for their height difference. Alfred moved his hand to cup the back of the Brit's neck. He pulled away for air, face lit up.

The Brit looked up at Alfred, eyes lazy. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, a small blush on his cheeks. The American boy leaned down, resting his forehead on Arthur's as the water lapped at their waists. The shorter man sighed softly, placing a small kiss on the tip of the taller man's nose.

"I-I…" Alfred began, cheeks aflame.

"No need to apologize," Arthur cut him off gently. "I liked it.

Alfred's eyes widened as he came to a sudden realization. "I won't be able to go back to church now.."

This earned a startled laugh from Arthur. "That's what you're concerned about?" He asked almost incredulously. The American slid deeper into the water, blushing darkly. "Y-yes…"

"Oh, Alfie…" Arthur sighed, patting his head affectionately at his naivety. Alfred bit his bottom lip. The Brit sighed softly, running a hand over the younger male's enflamed cheek. He clapped his hands to his face. Arthur sighed, face falling. He pulled himself onto his rock, leaning back and focusing up on the sky.

"I-I'm sorry…" Alfred apologized, slipping out of the water and pulling on his shirt. Arthur looked up at him, brow furrowing. "What for?"

"Th-that." He sighed shakily, running a hand through his wet hair. Arthur let out another sigh, gazing back up at the sky and lacing his hands behind his head. "No need to, love."

"I have to go…but…will I see you again?" The American asked hopefully. The Brit's eyes darkened as he remembered his loyalty to the King. "I'm not sure…maybe one day." On the battlefield, he added to himself.

"I'll….be going to join the service in th' war." Alfred said, smiling brightly, his eyes shining with pride. Arthur's eyes widened slightly, his worst fears confirmed. "O-oh…"

"Somethin' wrong?" Alfie asked, tilting his head and furrowing his brow. Arthur shook his head sullenly, climbing off the rock and going to the shore of the lake. "No, everything is fine…"

Alfred crossed over to the shorter man, tilting his chin up and hesitating only briefly before placing a soft kiss on the other man's lips. He broke the kiss abruptly, turning and walking off, waving over his shoulder. "See ya! I can feel it, Arthur. We'll meet again." He announced proudly, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"Righto…" Arthur said, less confidently. He felt a piece off him break as he watched the man walk away. It was clear; he had fallen for this naïve American boy. Too bad he had to be on the opposite side of the war.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few months, Arthur found himself working his way up the ranks of the British Army. He also found himself missing the blue eyed boy from the lake. Every single day, he woke up to an aching pain in his chest. How was it that he could fall in love with a boy from the rebelling side within a few hours? Highly unlikely. Unlikely, but not impossible. The man rubbed his head as his commanding officer gave him his assignment for the day. Arthur was to be a scout. The green eyes man saluted, running off to scout the area for Americans.

Alfred was ducked behind a bush with his patrol. It was his first day on the job, and his excitement could only be described as giddy. His breath hitched as he heard the rustling of oncoming feet and the labored breath of an enemy scout. But once that enemy scout came into view, he dropped his rifle. That…that was Arthur. There was no mistaking it, that was the Arthur that filled his every thought. That had let the headstrong American boy kiss him. What was he doing here…?

The realization hit him like a jackhammer to the head. Arthur Kirkland was a Redcoat. Pain and betrayal washed over him in waves, each conflicting but somehow melting together. The clamour made by him dropping his gun caused the green eyed man look up, those beautiful eyes of his lighting up. Ignoring the hissed orders from his squad captain, he shot out of the bushes, running into sight of the Brit. "Arthur!" He called, worry and pain and hurt echoing in his voice.

Arthur looked up. Shock and horror filled his usual soft gaze. "A-Alfie?" He choked, stumbling backwards a few paces. Alfred came to a halt ten paces in front of the man. "Why didn't you tell me you were on the British side?" He snapped, letting his anger control him. The Brit's eyes widened, shame filling them. "I-I didn't think…It wasn't important."

"Wasn't important?!" The American yelled, snorting. "That's th' worst damn lie I've heard in years, Redcoat!" Arthur flinched at the name. He hated it coming from Alfred's mouth. He was so happy to see him, but obviously the other male didn't feel the same way. "Alfie," He began, but was cut off by the livid American.

"No. Don't call me that. You don't deserve to." Every single word he spoke was like a shard of glass being plunged into Arthur's heart. He took a step back, flinching as if the words were physical inflictions. Alfred saw this, but only a little pity rose up. He pushed it away brutally, shoving past the dazed and hurt man. His squad followed. The captain lingered, looking at the dazed Brit. "Take him out." The man said through a clenched jaw. One of the men saluted, waiting until all of his colleagues were out of sight. He slid behind a nearby tree, training his gun on Arthur's back. Everybody else was out of sight. He waited, taking a step forward. _Pop_! A dry branch cracked under his foot. Arthur looked up, eyes wide. The man shot.

Alfred was fuming. He walked back to his captain, who had called him over. "Jones, I want you to go back to the camp." The stern captain ordered, eyes blazing.

"But sir-"

"No. Go back to the camp. _Now_."

The eager boy nodded, dropping his azure gaze and trudging off. He paused, watching one of the stragglers come up to their leader. He was breathing hard. "Sir," The panting man began. "I did what you ordered. The Redcoat is mortally wounded."

"He isn't dead?!" The captain yelled, losing his calm demeanor in a heartbeat. Alfred felt the blood drain from his face. Arthur. What had they done to him? He sped off, not bothering to listen in on the conversation anymore. He had to get to his green eyed angel.

Arthur was laying on the ground, the world fuzzy all around him. His ears were ringing. The Brit cursed the American who had done this to him. He had been ambushed. Bloody low, shooting a man while he was defenseless. Arthur's shoulder throbbed mercilessly. Whoever it was had shot him, aiming for his back. Lucky for him, the green eyed man had turned just in time to see that gun pointed at him. This was no graze. No, he had been shot, bullet inches away from his heart. Now he lay on the forest floor, bleeding out. Too weak to move. Didn't want to, anyways. The look of pure hurt and disgust Alfred had given him was burned into his mind. It hurt almost as bad as the bullet embedded in his shoulder. No, not that badly. But…almost.

The Brit winced as he tried to sit up, talking to himself all the while. "Easy, old boy. There you go…" He pushed himself to a sitting position, panting heavily and leaning on the arm that didn't feel like it was on fire every time he tried to move. "Alright…now over to that tree…" He scooted up against the tree, resting his forehead against it. The man's usually bright green eyes had dulled with the pain. He looked back over his shoulder slightly. A pool of blood and a small trail is what he saw. He sighed, looking down at his bloodstained coat, now redder than he had started off.

Alfred froze. The sight that lay before the boy set him off-kilter. Arthur was leaning against a tree, a trail of blood leading from a small pool of the stuff where Artie had obviously been shot. The Brit was sheet-white, his green eyes dull from the pain. Alfie's pity and worry soon turned to anger and betrayal. He had lied to Alfred. It hurt that he didn't trust him.

"Get up." Alfred growled, his voice very much unlike his usual self. Arthur wasn't surprised. He couldn't really feel anything at the moment, in all honesty. "I can't." He gasped, blood staining the edge of his mouth. The American rolled his eyes and prodded him with the butt of his gun. "I said," He growled. "Get up."

"I would've been out of here if I could, you git!" The wounded man spat, coughing. Alfred sighed, crouching and scooping him into his arms. Arthur blinked, tentatively wrapping his arms around the sturdy boy's neck.

The silence that ensued the whole way back was both stressful and uncomfortable. Arthur was chewing on his lip, eyes downcast as he reflected on what would happen to him. He was already bleeding pretty heavily. Would they patch him up or let him bleed out? After all, he was a Redcoat. What was one more dead Brit to the American rebels? Artie bit into his lip hard, yelping when he broke into the flesh. Blood dribbled down his chin. He growled, trying to hide the pain.

Alfred looked down at him, sighing softly when he saw the added blood on his face. "Yer gonna bleed t' death." He muttered, wiping his lip gently with his thumb. The Brit flinched, half pain and half fear. Something flickered in Alfie's blue gaze. Remorse, maybe? Arthur couldn't tell. He did look guilty. But it could've just been the blood loss catching up to him. His vision had gone blurrier, and he could actually feel the blood leaving him. It was as if someone had put a small tube in his veins and attached it to a vacuum cleaner. It was the oddest thing he had ever felt.

Alfred saw that he was slipping fast into unconsciousness. They got to the camp a little while later. By this time, Alfred was nicely doused in the Brit's blood, and struggling to keep the poor man awake. Setting Arthur on the grass beside the medical tent, he slid in. "I have a British prisoner outside. He needs medical attention." He reported. One of the doctors curled his lip, shaking his head.

"I will not have some British, scummy blood on my hands." He spat. Alfred felt something rise up in his gut. It made his blood surge and eyes dance with fire and determination. He slammed the doctor against a nearby table, snarling viciously. "Yer gonna patch 'im up whether you wanna or not." He growled, lip curled and eyes holding a dangerous glint. The nurses watched in horror. One even pleaded with the stubborn doctor to do as he was told. After a few minutes of a harsh and silent contest of wills, the doctor sniffed. "Fine. But I'm not using any of my good equipment on him."

With another snarl, Alfred shoved him against the surgical table again, releasing him. He hoped that he would leave bruises. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked out to get the injured 'British scum'. He scooped Arthur into his arms, carrying him into the tent. His jaw was set as he glared sharply at the old doctor. The American soldier set Arthur down on the table, eyes softening slightly as the Brit winced and hissed through his teeth at the pain. The doctor sniffed, staring at the Brit. "I am Doctor Johnson." Was all the stuffy man said. He hand't even bothered to shake either of their hands.

The nurses fussed about Arthur for a while, taking his temperature, checking his pulse, forcing him to shed his shirt for the necessary procedure. Alfie tried his best not to get jealous as some of the younger nurses fawned about the man. He had to admit, even bleeding and inhumanly pale, Arthur was striking. Golden brown hair against a usual pale skin tone, bright green eyes, a tsundere manor. He was quite a man.

Doctor Johnson stepped forward, holding a mean looking pair of tweezers. No numbing substance in sight. Arthur shrank away from it, eyes widening. "I-Is that going to hurt?" He whispered, scooting slightly more towards Alfred. "Very much so." The doctor replied, a mean gleam in his eyes. The Brit let out a small whimper. The American sent a cold look the doctors way, turning to the shivering man who was trying to hide from whatever pain was about to inflict him. Whatever anger or hurt he still felt toward Arthur melted away at the sight of him. He was shivering, from blood loss, cold, or fear Alfie wasn't sure. His perfect green eyes were wide, pleading. He was staring at the blue eyed boy imploringly.

"Please don't make me." He whispered. Alfred's heart broke a little at the broken way he said those words. "Well," He began slowly, running his fingers gently through Arthur's thick hair. "If ya don't, you'll risk infection. An' that'd hurt worse 'n any ol' needle. Please? For me?"

Those words hit home. It was either that, or the fact that Alfred wasn't upset with him anymore. He took a shuddering breath, close his eyes briefly, and gave an almost imperceptible nod. The doctor set to work immediately.

A few moments of muffled cries and more bleeding passed, and finally the bullet was out. They patched him up and then the doctor was gone, muttering something about having the cursed blood of the British on his hands and needing disinfectant. Alfred glared after him. Until, that is, Arthur set his head against his shoulder. He was breathing heavily, eyes half closed and glazed with pain. Alfie bent and kissed the top of his head, ignoring the looks he received from the smitten nurses. "Come on...let's get you to bed." He said. Arthur nodded, planning on slipping down off of the the table, but his plan was foiled by Alfred's strong arms around the small of his back and legs. He muttered a garbled protest to no avail. The American boy hefted him and started toward a tent they had set aside for Arthur. He was now a prisoner. But he couldn't say he minded in the least. Alfred was in charge of guarding him until further notice.

Alfred ducked into the tent, setting Arthur on the padded mat that was to serve as a bed for him. He winced as the shock of being set down traveled up his arm. Alfred shot him an apologetic and sympathetic glance as he closed the tent flap. After that small task was complete, he sat down next to Arthur and pulled him into his lap. "I'm sorry." He whispered into the crown of golden hair, nuzzling him.

"Would I be an awful person if I kissed you?" Arthur finally asked, voice slightly strangled. Surprised, the American looked up. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned slightly forward and captured his lips with his own. The gentle, chaste kiss soon grew to be long and passionate. Alfie pulled Arthur farther up onto his lap, his breath catching when the Brit ran his slender fingers through his hair. The American nibbled his bottom lip, asking for entrance to his mouth. After slight hesitation, Artie let him explore his mouth with his tongue. The Brit practically melted into him, loving his taste, his smell. He had missed him so much. Those beautiful blue eyes, the innocence and joy he always found sparkling in them. The honey colored, untamable wild mess that was Alfred's hair. Oh, yes. He had missed him with every fiber of his being.

After a few minutes, Arthur pulled back, parting for air.

"That...was...your idea of resting?" He panted.

Alfie smiled. "Sorry. I jus' missed ya." He apologized, setting his forehead against the Britons. "Now you can rest."

Arthur returned the smile, exhaustion evident in his stunning green gaze. Alfred carefully settled them so that his green eyes angel was laying on his chest. He wrapped his arms around the injured man. "I love you," He whispered before drifting off.

And at that moment, everything was perfect. Never mind that Arthur had been shot. Never mind that the nation was at war. It didn't matter that the had been upset at each other just hours before. Nothing bad mattered at that moment. All that mattered that, after months, the two of them still loved each other. They hadn't ever stopped. And neither had chosen another, temporary partner to fill the void that the other left in their hearts. And as they lay there, holding each other, oblivious to the war waging on outside, they both had one thought.

They just might have a chance in this cruel world.


End file.
